


Care to Cut In?

by Fever_Dreams



Series: October Nightmares (Fills for Goretober and Whumptober 2018) [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gore, Hallucinations, Insomnia, skinned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 22:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fever_Dreams/pseuds/Fever_Dreams
Summary: Tim can’t sleep, doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t have the time to waste sleeping. It’s been days since he’d stumbled away from Covent Garden and his life crumbled to dust along with the circus flyer in his hands. He keeps seeing flashes in the corner of his eyes of Danny-- or maybe the thing that took him, but it’s been days since the last time he was sure he’d seen his brother. Days since--“Shall I?”Day 3 prompts: Insomnia and Sliced Up





	Care to Cut In?

**Author's Note:**

> In which I psychologically torture Tim because... reasons?

Tim can’t sleep, doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t have the time to waste sleeping. It’s been days since he’d stumbled away from Covent Garden and his life crumbled to dust along with the circus flyer in his hands. He keeps seeing flashes in the corner of his eyes of Danny-- or maybe the thing that took him, but it’s been days since the last time he was _sure_ he’d seen his brother. Days since--

“Shall I?”

Tim spins around to find the source of the voice. A concerned older woman asks if he’s alright, tells him he looks terrible, that he should get some rest, whatever it is can wait until morning. He brushes her off and continues down the road to a destination he can’t quite recall.

He finds himself staring at a steel door. The chain is cut and the door is ajar. A gloved hand reaches out and beckons him closer, black and white polka dots adorn the sleeve. He is frozen in place, unable to move forward or look away. As the fingers move he can see the rust stain of blood streaked across the palm and fingertips. There is no sound in the air but his rapid breathing as the hand retreats gracefully back inside.

This time of day the street should be bustling but no one passes between him and the door as it glides slowly open. It should creak, in the horror movies sinister doors always creak, but it doesn’t. Silence is the only herald as the crumpled figure of his brother is revealed to him. Deep cuts run the length of his limbs, parting his skin and muscle to the bone. Blood pools around the corpse, spreading slowly outward.

With that much blood, with the severity of his wounds there is no way Danny could be alive. No way for him to turn his head slowly, oh so slowly, to face him. No way for his little brother's eyes to convey the depth of his pain as he pulls himself forward. The flesh falling away from muscle and bone doesn’t stop him as he closes in on his older brother; the one who should have protected him, the one who didn’t save him from this.

Thick blood oozes from beneath the skin he leaves behind. There are no other colors beyond the reds and browns set in sharp relief against flashes of pale bone. Danny has left his skin fully behind him now as he gathers his legs under him. Tim still doesn’t move as he lifts himself upright with a series of halting movements. He sways for a moment and a chunk of his face drops wetly to the floor when he tries to smile.

The spell breaks and Tim reels backwards. His left foot catches the curb and he goes down hard scraping his palms on the cement. He scuttles backward until he hits a wall and can go no further. The meat of his little brother steps forward and crouches down level with him. Behind him his abandoned flesh watches, now filled out by something unknowable yet moves with an inhuman grace.

Danny leans in next to Tim’s ear, heavy drops of half-coagulated blood land on his shoulder. “The show must go on,” he rasps.

The thing wearing his hollowed flesh takes what remains of Danny’s hand and pulls him into a waltz. Tim clutches his head to block out the wet laughter bubbling from his brother’s throat. The two of them or perhaps just Danny, now split in two, spin and swirl as music floats in on the breeze. Faster and faster they go, red blurring with the blue of Danny’s coat blurring with the ashen color of his bloodless skin.

A hand lands heavy on his shoulder. “Care to cut in?”

Tim starts and nearly falls off the park bench. Before he can collect himself circus music pushes its way into his awareness. His eyes dart frantically around until they land on a carousel spinning red and blue and gold before him.

He’s been pushing himself too hard and must have fallen asleep. He starts to scrub the sleep sand from his eyes but pulls up short at the stinging pain on his hands. He looks down to see both palms scraped raw.

The only fall he can remember was in the dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I've very likely had a fever for the last day or so and I'm going to blame that for the work of my hands. Accurate username is accurate.


End file.
